


When You're Feeling Better

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [145]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: AU Where No One Is Famous, Except RDJ Who Is Always Famous In His Own Mind, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, School Nurse!Sebastian, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 22:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16027268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: Chris is not panicking about his kid being sick at school, he's not. But he is kinda thrown that the school nurse is so, uh, hot.





	When You're Feeling Better

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Single Parent/Teacher. Prompt from this [generator](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator).

The call comes while he’s at lunch listening to Mackie ramble. They’d started off talking about football because it was on the restaurant's TV but somehow, when his phone rings, they’ve careened to _Stranger Things_ , the cultural effects of Columbine, and then the Spanish Civil War (?).

“Dude,” Chris says, reaching for his pocket, “you gotta stop reading Wikipedia during meetings.”

Mackie looks mournful. “It’s either that or bang my head on the table. Real, real hard.”

Chris is so busy making a face he almost forgets to say hello. Almost.

“Mr. Evans?” The voice on the other end is sympathetic. “Is this Anna’s dad?”

Oh shit. “This is he.”

“I’m afraid Anna’s come down with a fever, Mr. Evans, so she can’t stay at school today. Someone will need to come pick her up.”

“What’s wrong?” Mackie mouths.

Chris waves him off, covers his eyes with his hand. “Um, yeah, ok. I can be there in about 20 minutes. Is she ok?”

“Well, she’s feeling pretty peaky, but she’s resting in the nurse’s office now. Do you know where that is?”

“Yes, uh, sir. Yes, I do.”

A chuckle. “Then we’ll see you in a bit. I’ll let her know you’re on your way.”

He’s out of his chair before the call’s fully closed, scrabbling for his wallet, and kicked a twenty into the center of the table.

“The anklebiter’s down, huh?” Mackie says.

“Yeah.”

“You want me to tell Rob, or--?”

“I’ll call him from the car.”

There’s a crawl of panic in his gut, the kind that makes his head run around in circles, the kind that makes it hard to remember where his keys are, where the door is, where the fuck he parked his car.

“Hey,” Mackie says, a sudden squeeze at Chris’ elbow. “My man, take a deep breath. She’ll be all right. You know kids, they get sick all the time.”

Air in, air out. Chris grabs the back of his chair and counts to three. Then to five. Then to ten. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right.”

“And she’s not gone be happy if Dad shows up looking like a hot mess.” A shove, one last pat on the back. “I’m calling Rob for you. You text me when you get her home, how about that?”

“Yeah, of course.” Chris’ heart downshifts and he can hear his own voice again as he heads for the door. “Thanks, man.”

Mackie snorts, calls. “Thanks, nothing. Your sandwich was like five bucks, Evans. You just paid for my lunch.”

 

*****  


The drive over is awful, the sprint from the parking lot worse, and by the time he gets to the front door of Anna’s school, Chris has to take a minute, a whole host of deep breaths.

It’s not like he doesn’t get it: kids are freaking germ factories who spend all day in close proximity to other germ factories and frankly, Anna’s first grade classroom could double as a Superfund site some days. There was the stomach flu outbreak in the fall, and then the strep flair up right before Christmas, and ok, it’s not the first time since Anna’s been with him since she’s gotten sick, but it’s the first time she’s ever come down with something at school.

He’s used to being woken up in the middle of the night by a cough or a cartoon-level retch or a tug on his arm, a little girl poke in his chest: _Chris I don’t feel good_ or _Chris Chris Chris wake up_ or _Chris I need a popsicle_ _my throat hurts._ That’s ok; that shit he can handle. But this?

His hand’s shaking as he signs in at the front desk, his smile at the secretary feels full-on wobbly.

This out of the blue bullshit? It kind of feels like too much.

He turns the corner and walks down the hall-- _walk_ , his head tells him, _do not fucking run_ \--breathes in the smell of glue and PE and grass stains that wafts through the big, open windows on either side of the hall. The hand-lettered signs on the walls are fading, the artwork pinned in neat rows tattered a little and torn. Another couple of weeks and then at last summer vacation and even in his rush, he can feel the energy in the place, the excitement: everybody, it feels like, is ready for a break.

A whole summer, the panic part of his brain repeats. Your first summer as a dad. How’s that gonna go you think, champ?

Shut up, he tells it. One problem at a time, ok?

He barges into the nurse’s office without knocking and the guy at the desk looks up, gets a good look at his big sweaty face, doesn’t bat a damn eye.

“You must be Anna’s dad,” the guy says warmly. "We spoke on the phone."

“Yeah, uh. Hi.”

The man gestures him forward. “She’s back here. And man, is she gonna be happy to see you.”

She’s tucked behind a curtain in a little anteroom, stretched out on a cot that could fit two of her end to end, at least. It makes Chris’ heart clutch, how small she looks; how tired her eyes are when she turns her head on the pillow.

“Hey, kiddo,” Chris says.

Anna smiles, turns up her flushed cheeks. “Hi, Daddy.”

Another step and he’s by her side, smoothing the hair from her face and catching the heat of her forehead. “I hear you’d feeling kind of peaky, Punky. I’m sorry you had to wait.”

“Oh, it’s ok. Mr. Sebastian read me a story. And then I fell asleep.”

“Mister--?”

The nurse clears his throat. “Ah, that’s me. Sebastian.”

“Like the crab,” Anna says. “In that movie you like so much, Chris. _The Little Mermaid_.”

“Yeah, honey, I got it.”

Anna sits up a little and looks around Chris. “Sebastian, I like you, but I think that movie is dumb. Daddy Chris loves it, though. He knows all the words.”

The nurse laughs, his eyes lighting up, and somewhere, in the midst of his Dad mode, Chris thinks: _Holy shit. This dude’s_ _cute_.

“Your daddy’s clearly very smart, then,” the nurse--Sebastian--says. “Is he a good singer, too?”

Anna’s face is priceless. “Um, no. He’s terrible.”

“Thanks a lot, kiddo.”

She looks up at him, exasperated. “Well it’s _true_. And lies are bad. You’re not supposed to lie, Daddy. Sheesh.”

“Ok,” Chris says, feeling his ears turn into flames. “We’re leaving. Come on, ma’am. We have to get you home. Let’s find your shoes.”

“Sebastian,” Anna says loudly as Chris is fighting with her laces, “where’s the story you read me?”

“It’s right here. Why?”

Anna’s hands are on Chris’ head, beating out their familiar morning tattoo. “Because I didn’t get to hear how it ended. I fell asleep.”

“Hey, squigglesquirt,” Chris says, “be still. This is gonna take me forever.”

Sebastian squats down beside Chris and picks up her other shoe, marshals her other flailing foot. “That's right. You did miss the end, didn’t you?”

“Yeah."

“Well then,” Sebastian says, sneaking Chris a smile, “I think you should borrow it so your dad can finish reading it to you at home.”

Their shoulders are brushing, Sebastian’s neat scrubs kissing Chris’ old button-down, and Chris is suddenly, keenly aware of how attractive this man is, how good he smells (how is that even possible?), how close he is, how readily (but politely) he’s giving Chris the eye.

“Can I?”

Sebastian’s fingers find a bow and he taps her ankle once, gives her a grin. “As long as you bring it back when you’re feeling better, then sure. ‘Course you can.”

“What do you say, ma’am?” Chris chides.

She makes a face at him. “ _Thank you_. Daddy, I was getting there. I wasn’t raised in a barn.”

Sebastian laughs, a wide, happy thing that Chris has the weird urge to curl into. “I can see that,” he says, standing up and offering Chris a hand. “You have very fine manners, Anna.”

She blinks up at them primly, and scrubs at her eyes. “I do,” she says through an enormous, lion-esque yawn. “Uh huh. Yes.”

When Chris scoops her up, she winds her arms around his neck and cuddles against him, closes her eyes with a sigh. Sebastian tucks the book under Chris’ arm and gives him another sunny, shy smile.

“Keep an eye on her temp today, but don’t worry too much. If it goes over 100, call your pediatrician.”

“I will. Thanks.”

A hand on his shoulder, a squeeze. “Call me in the morning, would you, and let me know how she’s feeling. And what she thought of the ending. She’s a pretty tough critic.”

“Sebastian does good voices,” Anna mumbles on the way to the car. “You’d like them.”

“I’m sure, ah. I’m sure I would.”

Anna sighs. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you if yours aren’t as good.”

Chris tucks a snort in her hair and reaches for the door handle. “Yeah, counting on it, peanut.”

 

****  


He leaves his phone be until they’re home, until Anna’s tucked safely in her own bed. There’d been a brief tussle about her wanting to sleep on the couch and watch Mr. Rogers, but they’d comprised on sleep first, then sherbet and Mr. Rogers. Trust sherbet to win the day.

There are four texts from Rob, three of them in emoji, all of them saying in essence, _it’s fine, take the time, let me know if you need tomorrow_. And two from Mackie-- _Give Anna a hug from me unless she’s contagious in which case, yuck. Wave._ and _Let me know if you’re coming in tomorrow because I owe you Starbucks._

He lets Rob’s be and responds to Mackie’s:

_We’re home. I think she’s ok. And--_

His fingers hover over the screen for a second.

_And I think I just met the guy of my dreams_.

_No, not that kind, you perv._

_Ok, maybe a_ little _of that kind, but that’s not what I meant._

_...or is it?_


End file.
